FeMy grandmother was a memory keeper,More Like This
With a house full of moments
She'd sequestered away,
Fingers adept at taking the small bits
No one else thinks
(My grandmother was a memory keeper, but from today, we'll be keeping the memory of her.)
last night I was inspired."Last night I was inspired.More Like This
It was a sad, cold, lonely night. Thoughts screaming, yelling at me. I literally wrote nonsense on the wall for hours, about beating hearts, fragility and failure. About skeletons that had no legs and hissing fangs that glared at me.
Once again my cruel best friend arrived, embracing me with its gleaming coldness. She was dressed in silver and scarlet; our favorite colors. She danced as I wrote and sang as I cried. And then I was suddenly left in the dark; lonely, hating her -hating them-, and crying.
Yet it was strange that what I only got to feel then, was inner peace."
"Anoche fui inspirada.
Era una triste noche, fría y solitaria. Pensamientos chillando, gritándome. Escribí cosas sin sentido en la pared durante horas, sobre corazones que laten, sobre fragilidad y fracaso. Sobre esqueletos sin piernas y colmillos siseantes que me mataban con la mirada.
Una vez más, mi cruel y mejor amiga llegó,